


You're Only Time Lord

by ClassicBeauty



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicBeauty/pseuds/ClassicBeauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor can't go on with all the guilt and emotional pain anymore. After returning to old, destructive habits, it's up to Amy and Rory to save him from the one who hates him most... Himself.</p><p>Hint/Spoiler: The Doctor might not be the only one with secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hate and Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I've noticed that despite his usual happy behavior, The Doctor is very sad, lonely, dark, mournful, emotional, and often heart broken... Or is it hearts broken?... 
> 
> I've been feeling emotional lately and watching Doctor Who. This is what the two created.

Sitting on the floor in his room, The Doctor kept his left arm propped up on his knee. He leaned his head against the bed behind him as he fiddled with the box cutter in his right hand, and stared at the dry blood that stuck to his left arm. It was getting itchy now as it dried. The fact that he was disappointed that the bleeding had stopped made him feel sick. He knew that the joy his own pain and blood brought him was disturbing. No one should think like that. But so many did, including himself.

"How could I have come back to this?" he whispered as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling. Tears began to slip down his cheeks as he thought of the time he had been cutting himself regularly.

It was on Christmas Eve of all days, just after Adelaide Brooke's suicide. The woman he had met on Mars who was supposed to die. It was a fixed point in time. He wasn't allowed to change it, but he did. He decided that the rules of the Time Lords no longer applied to him and saved three lived that should have ended that day.

It was worse then torture for him to stand back and allow people to die when he knew he could save them. He had seen enough death in his life. Maybe history would change, but perhaps in a good way, he thought. He was so wrong. Adelaide berated him for interfering with history before stepping into her house and killing herself. He heard the gun fire from outside and knew what happened instantly.

Suicide is a cruelest cause of death. The most horrendous of murders. And The Doctor was guilty of causing it. He had gone too far. Adelaide Brooke had killed herself on Christmas, when she could have died a hero, stopping the water on Mars from invading Earth. And it was his fault. Always his fault!

He had to resist lashing out at his arm again as the rage he felt towards himself as the emotions of that moment resurfaced. But the memories kept coming...

The events that followed were too hectic for The Doctor to have time to harm himself again, but it had crossed his mind on a few occasions. After all, he had made quite a habit out of it over the years whenever he journeyed alone, which was more often then he would have liked.

Then the day he dreaded came, and he regenerated to what he called "Eleven". His eleventh regeneration, (not counting The War Doctor or his second regeneration as "Ten"). His current body.

He made a friend as soon as he crash landed, named Amy, and watched her grow up in a single day due to some time travel complications. They caught prisoner Zero together, and before he knew it, he had a new companion. That was when he made the decision. He liked to call it a New Body Resolution. This eleventh body would not suffer from self inflicted wounds.

A resolution he kept for so long... until the suicide of Rosanna the Saturnyn he met in Venice triggered it once again. From a certain point of view, her actions were far from selfish, albeit unethical. She only wished to preserve her race, a motive he could understand. And The Doctor had hoped he could help her with her predicament once he had stopped her from genetically transforming human girls into Saturnyn as wives for her sons. But he never got the chance as she plunged to her death, devoured by her own children. But not before placing the weight of the extinction of her entire species on his shoulders. A weight that he couldn't bare. 

He broke his resolution that night, and he hadn't stopped since. Now here he was, years later, slicing up his wrists, and he wasn't even alone on the TARDIS at the moment. He had picked up Amy and Rory a few days ago and they had been on several fairly successful adventures already. Minimal casualties. But that wasn't enough. There were casualties, regardless of the number. People died, and it ate holes in his hearts everyday. Every moment, every second, images of those who he should have been able to save flashed in his mind. Only the sight of his own blood could ease the burden.

His punishment... His escape...

It was what he knew he deserved and hated. But still wanted and loved.

Pushing himself off the floor, The Doctor walked into his bathroom and washed the blood off. It stung as he rubbed his forearm to remove his dried blood, a feeling he learned to appreciate. Still he hurriedly washed it away, knowing it wouldn't be long before the Ponds woke and went looking for him. After he was clean, he pulled on his shirt, jacket, and bow tie, then strolled out into the control room, forcing a smile onto his face.

~:~/p>

"Ah, there you are, Doctor," Amy greeted him as he entered the control room. She was sitting in the jump seat with a cup of tea in her lap. "I was surprised when I woke up and you weren't here. Where were you?"

"I was in my room," The Doctor replied stepping over to the council and turning on the computer screen. "I figured I could use some rest while the computer ran a diagnostic on the TARDIS," he said skimming through the results. He lied allot, but he hated the way that one tasted as it left his mouth.

"So you do have a room!" Rory exclaimed as he hopped down the stairs. "And here I thought Time Lords just never slept." He sat beside Amy on the jump seat and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Don't be ridiculous. Time Lords need rest just like any other race... Just not for as long."

"Well, I've yet to see it," Amy laughed. 

"Of course you have!" The Doctor said taking his eyes of the screen to look at them. "You didn't actually see me sleeping, but you saw the evidence of it in that dream we all shared. Remember?"

Amy's eyes lit up as she remembered. "Yes! That's right. Of, course. Well, Rory, I guess we have our answer."

"He couldn't have been there if he wasn't sleeping," Rory nodded as he thought back to that totally messed up dream. His eyes then became distant as the memories came flooding back. 'So what do you do to stave off the self harm?'

"Why didn't we think of that. It was staring us in the face," Amy laughed at herself before taking a sip of her tea. "And here we were, staying up late, discussing the biological technicalities of an alien that never slept. Observant lot, we are."

"Oh, don't beat yourself up about it," The Doctor waved dismissively. "People make mistakes, miss the obvious--You're only human."

"Oi! Only human? What's that supposed to mean?" Amy asked defensively, but the playful grin on her face implied she wasn't too offended.

The Doctor smiled back, "Nothing. Nothing at all. All I'm saying is humans have a tendency to be a bit... thick! Not very observant. Dull... What's another word for stupid?" He asked with a smirk.

As The Doctor made his way below the control room to do some repairs, Amy rolled her eyes not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer. In doing so, she caught sight of her husbands distant and thoughtful face.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked nudging his side a bit to get his attention.

Rory snapped out of his trance. "Nothing. I was just thinking, but it's nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

Rory met her stern eyes, then bit his lower lip and glanced around. The Doctor had just vanished to the floor below, and could be seen through the transparent portions of the flooring, sitting in his little swing and making repairs.

"It's about The Doctor," he whispered. "And something I noticed awhile back. It's been bothering for awhile, and the more I think about it, the more I think it's true."

"What's true?" Amy whispered back, feeling anxious.

"Not here, not now," Rory shook his head. "He's too close."

"Then come with me," Amy stood impatiently and pulled Rory up beside her.

"We can't just leave. The Doctor will wonder where we're going," Rory reminded her.

"I'll take care of that," she said confidently.

Rory squinted at her. "How-OW!" He yelled as she threw her tea at his shirt.

"Is everything all right up there?" The Doctor called.

"Yes!" Amy answered. "I just spilt my tea on Rory. That's all. I'll go help him clean up. We'll be right back."

"Alright, I'll be here," he called as the couple went upstairs to the halls.

"Why did you do that?" Rory asked as they made it out of The Doctor's earshot.

"It wasn't that hot! You said you couldn't say it in front of The Doctor, so I gave us an excuse to leave. So, tell me: What's wrong?"

Rory was quiet as they walked quickly down the halls. Once they reached their bedroom, he pulled her inside and closed the door.

"Right now? I'm soaked in tea, that's what's wrong. Just give me a second," he said opening his drawers and pulling out a clean shirt. Amy tapped her foot impatiently as he took off the wet shirt and put a dry one on.

When he was finished, Amy asked again. "Okay, so what did you notice awhile back that you can't say in front of The Doctor?"

Rory sighed as he tossed his shirt over a chair. "Remember when The Doctor said he hated himself more then anyone else in the universe?"

"Uh... no," Amy answered knitting her eyebrows together. "When did he say that? I wasn't there."

"Actually, you were. It's just not something you would have noticed if you weren't already thinking about it, like I was," Rory explained. "It was when he was talking to The Dream Lord and The Doctor said he knew who he was because no one hated him as much as The Dream Lord did."

"And?"

"And later who did The Doctor say The Dream Lord was?"

"Himself," Amy replied as she considered his behavior as both Doctor and Dream Lord. "I had put together that The Dream Lord had said some harsh things, but when I asked him about it... He sorta distracted me."

"Yeah, he does that a lot. But there's more," Rory said nervously. "And it's not easy to talk about..."

"What?"

"I wouldn't have thought to look for the signs if he hadn't have said anything in that dream," Rory explained wringing his hands. "And I didn't say anything before because I was hoping I was wrong. I wanted to be certain because I didn't want to worry you."

"Rory, tell me!"

"Have you ever thought it was strange that he always wears the same outfit when he has all that clothes? Always the same shirt with the same jacket, even when it's hot out. And do you ever wonder what The Doctor does after we go to bed? I know he can't possibly be sleeping the whole time! He never looks rested enough." Then Rory started listing off particular days when The Doctor kept to himself for long periods at a time, then other times when he seemed just a bit secretive, distant, or not quite himself.

"What are you trying to say?" Amy interrupted before it went on for too long. She wanted an answer now.

"What I'm saying is... He's--It looks like--I think......I know the signs of self-harm when I see them!" Rory finally blurted after a great deal of difficulty.

Amy blinked at her husband, unsure of what to make of his deduction. She pictured a person holding a blade to their skin, the stereotypical scene that most had ingrained in their heads, then she pictured The Doctor. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't combined the two. She couldn't actually imagine The Doctor doing that to himself. She couldn't imagine scars running like zebra print over his body. She couldn't, and she didn't want to. Still, Rory was a nurse, who was always very intuitive when in came to others emotional state. A rare trait for a guy that had Amy convinced he was gay during their teen years. If he truly believed The Doctor was hurting himself enough to tell her, maybe he was right.

"I-I don't know what to say," Amy admitted after a long silence. "Have you actually seen these injuries?"

Rory nodded solemnly. "I caught a glimpse under his sleeve while I was helping him with repairs under the TARDIS. I saw at least three parallel cuts in a row."

"Did you ask him about it? He must have had some explanation," Amy insisted hoping Rory was wrong.

"Well, I didn't exactly strait up ask him if he cut himself. I just asked if he was hurt and wanted me to take a look, but it was just after we got attacked by those man eating rose bushes," Rory shrugged. "He said it was from the thorns, and insisted he'd be fine. I tried to believe him, but--It's like I said before: The more I think about it, the harder it gets to believe."

"Maybe he was telling the truth," Amy tried to reassure Rory and herself. "I mean, why would he lie to us? We're his friends."

Rory raised his eyebrows at her. "Like our daughter said, The Doctor lies. You know that. And why wouldn't he? It's not something people would like to admit to."

Amy tried her best to think up another possible explanation. The Doctor couldn't possibly be doing this. He just couldn't. But the more she searched for a reasonable excuse to his strange behavior, the more she realized their was none. Rory was right. The Doctor was in pain, too much pain for him to handle mentally, so he made it physical. As much as she loathed the thought of it, it really did sound like something he would do. 

She could picture it now. Fuzzy, but growing clearer. The Doctor... blood flowing down the cuts on his arms... a blade in his hand... lying on the bathroom floor.... dead.

Her tears blurred her view of the room she was in, abandoning her to suffer with the image in her mind. "Rory! We can't let this happen. We have to do something. We have to make him stop!"

"We can't just make him stop. He has to want to stop," Rory said resting a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into his arms. 

She sobbed into his clean shirt. Locking her arms around his body as if for her life. "How could we have let this happen? He's been h-hurting himself while we've been living here and we haven't even noticed!"

Rory rubbed her back and rested his chin on her head. He tried to fight his own tears that came as an automatic response to Amy's pain and The Doctors. "Don't worry. We're going to help him. Now that I'm certain, we can talk to him and we can help him."

"How?" Amy choked on her tears.

Rory pulled Amy back to look into her eyes. "In my experience showing someone you care is the first step to helping them."

"Do you really believe we can help him?" Amy asked wiping the tears from her face.

"Yes. Yes, absolutely," Rory nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Can we talk to him now?" she practically begged. "I can't--I can't let this go on without trying to help him. Without at least telling him that I'm here for him if he needs someone to talk to."

"Okay," Rory nodded. "Yeah, we can talk to him now." He kissed Amy's forehead, and gave her a few minutes to regain her composure before leading her out of the bedroom for perhaps the most unpleasant talk the three had ever had. And that was saying quite a lot.


	2. The Almost Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, second chapter might be a bit rough. Please comment and let me know what you think. Any ideas on what I'm doing wrong might help too. The next chapter should be better.

Amy and Rory had been gone for almost an hour. The Doctor knew it wasn't any of his business, but he couldn't help but wonder what the couple could possibly be doing for all this time.

"Must have been one heck of a tea stain," The Doctor mumbled as he continued on the repairs. He would have been done a lot sooner if he didn't have to keep running back and forth from the counsel and back down to floor underneath it. Two companions, no help. Figures! But that wasn't really what was bothering him. He was used to making repairs on his own. He didn't mind it so much. What really kept pressing on him was the fact that he didn't know what was taking Amy and Rory so long to come back.

He was getting antsy and incredibly self-conscious. He just couldn't relax. He had a terrible feeling, and he wasn't too sure why. Maybe it was his sixth sense, because he knew something wasn't right.

"Doctor," came Amy's voice from the top of the stair.

The Doctor felt his stomach knot up. There was something in her voice... The way she said his name...

"Yes?" The Doctor managed casually as shoved a few wires back inside the panel and snapped it shut.

"Do you have a minute to talk?" She asked, sounding closer.

"I suppose," The Doctor slowly pushed himself off his little repair swing, straightened his bow tie, and climbed up the steps. Once he reached the counsel, he saw Amy and Rory standing side by side in front of a jump seat. He noted their solemn expressions with slight concern.

"What might we be talking about?" He asked.

The couple exchanged a glance. "Sit down," Amy patted the side of the jump seat.

The Doctor looked from his friends, to the seat, then back to his friends with questioning eyes.

Amy just nodded her head to the seat, implicated she wanted him to sit. No arguments.

The Doctor found it strange that his knees wobbled in protest as he silently obeyed his companion. He plopped in the seat, tugged the collar of his jacket, and leaned back to look at his friends standing in front of him. "Alright," he shrugged casually. "I'm sitting. What next? What do you want to talk about?"

"Well..." Amy began rubbing her elbow nervously, trying to remember how she intended to start. "Rory and I were just noticing that you've been acting a bit... off lately..."

The Doctor shifted his eyes to Rory, who was standing next to Amy with an unreadable expression and uncharacteristically proper posture. "'Off'? In what ways?" 'You're paranoid.' He told himself. 'They can't possibly suspect what you're doing.'

"You seem troubled. And distant." The Doctor looked back at Amy as she explained. "Not your usually silly, fun self. I mean, I know you still joke around, but it just doesn't seem as genuine as it used to." Amy had noticed before, but now, after Rory shared his concerns, it carried more meaning. "We want to know if there's something bothering you?"

The Doctor shrugged in response, then said, "My mind has been on the TARDIS, that's all. I didn't say anything before, but she's been having trouble for awhile now. I'm not sure what's wrong," He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were sweating.

"That it then? Your concerned about the TARDIS?" Amy asked.

"Yes," The Doctor nodded carefully. His eyes turned back to Rory's for a moment, who met his gaze. "I'm sure she'll be fine, though. Just needs a break maybe."

His lie stung more then she thought it would. "Good. That's really good. But, um, Doctor?"

The Doctor struggled to drag his eyes away from Rory. There was something all too knowing about the way he looked at him... "Yes, Pond?"

"You do know that if you need anybody, I'm here for you, don't you? We both are." Amy gestured to both her and Rory. "You can come to us about anything. If you want to talk, or something. We'll never put you down. We're good for more then just running around with you, you know."

The Doctor gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Pond. If I ever find myself in need of a friend, I'll always come to you."

With that, The Doctor stood, said he'd be right back, and vanished down the halls. Amy had done all the talking, but Rory's eyes said the most. 

He ran to his room as soon as he was out of Amy and Rory's sight. He made sure to lock the door behind him then sprinted to the bathroom. To calm his nerves, he closed and locked the bathroom door too. Panting, he tore off his shirt, exposing all the scars and scabs on his upper body.

All it would take was a little regeneration energy to make them all disappear. Wasteful, sure, but he didn't care. Rory's eyes lingered too long on all the right spots. He stared like he could see through his sleeves, and everywhere else he liked to cut, for that matter. If Rory decided to search him, he needed to find nothin but clean skin, not this mutilated mess! The Doctor could always refuse to allow the Ponds to check him, but how would that look? No, he couldn't hide it any longer, they needed to go...

But what if he was wrong? Paranoid? Just because they were concerned about him didn't mean they knew what they should really be concerned about. Maybe Rory wasn't using ex-ray vision to discover his secret... 

The Doctor took a deep breath and assured himself it was an overreaction on his part. It would be a definite stretch for them to assume he was cutting himself. There wasn't enough evidence. There wasn't a reason that would give them that impression. He made sure of it. Feeling relieved he relaxed his tense posture and ran his fingers over the scars on his arm. He really should get rid of them anyway, just in case. He held his breath as he considered doing it.

But he couldn't. Not if he didn't have to. He just couldn't imagine not seeing them there. He'd feel lost without them. He needed them. Just seeing them made him feel better. Maybe even... good? Yes. They made him feel very good. Happy, even. Happier then he'd felt in a long time. The old scars, and the fresh scabs alike had become an important part of himself.

Thank the stars Amy and Rory couldn't read his mind at this moment! He couldn't bare the thought of the looks on their faces if they knew he thought like that. What a mess that would be. He'd just continue to hide it. He's been doing it long enough and gotten good at it. Never had a slip up... Except once with Rory, but he was skilled enough at explaining it away, he doubted Rory would have thought twice about it.

The Doctor knew he was paranoid. He was clearly just very tired, he thought as he unlocked the bathroom door and started walking out. But then his eyes caught his shiny little blade on the sink... He couldn't resist as his hands shot out like it had a will of its own and grabbed it for the second time that day.

The earlier panic. The unspoken tension on the TARDIS. The sight of his already existent marks. And that stupid force of habit overtook him as he went to add more to his skin. It wasn't like he needed to be anywhere, anyway. The TARDIS really was acting strangely. Maybe some time off was all it needed.

-}~:~*~:~{-}~:~*~:~{-}~:~*~:~{-

Meanwhile in the control room, whispers could be heard as the young couple discussed the previous conversation. Unknown to them, someone was listening in on them. The last person they would have suspected.

"Maybe he was telling the truth." Amy's voice.

"Don't kid yourself." Her husband replied.

"What makes you so sure you're not the one kidding yourself?"

"I know I'm not."

"How?"

"Because I don't want to believe it, but I still do."

A pause, followed by, "And what's making you so certain?"

Rory sighed heavily. "I told you already. I know the signs of self-harm when I see them."

Then a very long silence followed.

"We should just tell him we know. We can't help him unless we address the problem directly." Amy said.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to. It would have been easier if he came to us, but you're right. I don't think he will. We should say something because he might never."

"Alright, so, should we go find him again or wait for him to comes back?"

Before Rory could answer the computer screen by the council lit up revealing a maze-like image.

"What's that," Amy asked stepping up to it for a better look.

Rory peeked over her shoulder. "Looks like a map of some sort. A maze or something... Look!" He pointed as a orange dot began moving through the maze, leaving behind a trail. It zigzagged up the screen to a certain point in the maze and stopped.

"Do you think it has anything to do with the diagnostic The Doctor was running?" Amy asked.

"I don't know. It might be important, though. We should find him and ask."

"Right... How do we find him? We don't even know where his room is," Amy pointed out.

The screen flashed again. It was the same maze, except the orange dot was back at the beginning. Once again, it zigzagged through the maze and up the screen until it reached the same point.

"Does this look familiar to you?" Rory pointed to the part of the screen where the dot started. It was a large circle with paths branching off from it into the maze. At the center of that circle was another, smaller circle.

As Amy looked at it, trying to figure out what it reminded her of, when words began popping up throughout the screen.

Pool

Garage

Rose's Room

Donna's Room

Susan's Room

Library

Kitchen

Control Room  
(The circular room where the dot started)

And so on...

"It's a map of the TARDIS," Amy realized. Her eyes flickered over to where the dot came to a stop. In bold lettering it read: The Doctor's Room.

"It's not the diagnostic results... Is the TARDIS telling us where to find The Doctor?" Rory asked slowly as if having a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept.

"I think so. It's never done this before... This can't be good. We need to get to him now!" Amy said grabbing Rory's arm and following the TARDIS's directions down the hall. As they dashed away, the computer screen flashed and the diagnostic returned to the screen.

-}~:~*~:~{-}~:~*~:~{-}~:~*~:~{-

He should have used some regeneration energy to heal the cut the moment he realized he went too deep. Except, he never was the type to do as he should. Only as he wanted. And at the moment all he wanted was to watch the blood flow for just a moment longer. But he let too many moments pass, and he slipped into unconsciousness from the blood loss.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may or may not be wondering about The Doctor suspecting that his companions are talking about his self-injury habit. Being he's been keeping the secret so long why would he expect something now? In short... Because that's what happened to me. After years of keeping it secret, one day my parents went off to their room and didn't come out for a long time. I went into complete panic mode. It wasn't like it was rare for them to do that, but for some reason it felt different that time. It was like I could feel the change in the air because I, like The Doctor in my story, had no other reason to suspect they where talking about my self-harm, but I was right when they later called me in to talk about it.


	3. No Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been busy with the family lately, so this chapter has taken a long time to write. But, finally it's done.

Finally arriving at the room the map labeled as The Doctor's, Amy reached out to knock on the door. As soon as her knuckles came into contact with the cold white metal on her first knock, a metallic click was heard and the door slid open, seemingly on it's own. Amy and Rory's eyes met before they turned their heads to the open doorway.

"Do you think this is the right room?" Amy asked feeling doubtful, and a little lost. The labyrinth halls had made her uncertain if she remembered the directions correctly.

"Must be," he replied. "A light's still on over there."

It was pitch black and nothing could be seen of the room, except for the light shining in through the a doorway on the far left, casting a long beam across the floor. From where the couple stood they couldn't get a look inside the room the light was coming from, but Rory assumed it must have been his bathroom, a thought that caused his stomach to turn into knots.

"Doctor?" Amy shouted loudly. "Are you alright?... Doctor?"

The several seconds past with no answer, confirming their fears. Something was terribly wrong with The Doctor. Otherwise, they would have gotten directions to his room in the first place. Before she could blink, Rory darted past Amy, not caring that he couldn't see the floor beneath him, and ran inside the illuminated doorway out of sight. Amy stalled were she was in the hall, white as winter, hairs prickling on the back of her neck. Shock overcame her, mixed with confusion and fear. 

Why The Doctor? Why would he do this?

She had encountered invisible monsters, weeping angels, the equivalent of vampires, and angry lizard people, but here she was, too afraid to even follow her husband into what looked to be The Doctor's bathroom. She knew that if something was wrong with him, it was because he did it to himself, something she found more horrifying then any of the creatures she had faced before.

Rory didn't call for her, which she was grateful for, but also terrified by. Her entire body began to shake at the thought of The Doctor being in such a horrible condition that Rory was glad she wasn't seeing it. Her heart beat like a bird's wings against her rib cage, as if wanting to escape this situation as badly as she did.

"Amy, I need a med pack from sick bay. Fast," Rory called. Amy could hear the professional tone he forced into his voice. The one he used to avoid letting his emotions get in the way of his work.

"On it," she yelled back, knowing her own voice came out strained and shaky. Amy fought to control her breathing as she dashed to sick bay, thankful for a job to keep her busy, and the chance to get away from the scene she hadn't even dared to look at. But more than anything, she was thankful for Rory. She didn't know what she would do if he hadn't rushed in and taken charge, all the while being understanding enough to give her a task that wouldn't involve facing whatever The Doctor had done to himself. At least not right away.

/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\

What Rory discovered in the bathroom was everything he feared it would be. But just because he expected it didn't make him anymore prepared.

Propped awkwardly against the wall, The Doctor sat shirtless in the center of a puddle a shade or two darker than a ruby. It was slowly growing wider from the streams flowing from its source; the open cuts on The Doctor's blood coated arms. 

Rory immediately sprang into action. Grabbing two small towels off the rack, he swiftly knelt down beside his patient and began to carefully wrap both arms to control the bleeding. While doing so, he considered Amy as he scanned the condition of The Doctor and the blood around him.

He took a deep breath and remembered his training before speaking, not wanting to frighten her by sounding panicked. "Amy, I need a med pack from sick bay. Fast."

"On it," her voice called back shakily. He could tell by her tone that he made the right decision in asking her to get the med pack. She wanted to help, but she wasn't prepared to see The Doctor, not like this. He could hardly bare it himself. The only problem was the fix was only temporary. Amy would return eventually to give him the med pack and then she'd have to come in, but Rory couldn't do this alone.

Gently, Rory hooked his fingers around The Doctors shoulders and pulled his back off the wall, twisting him around and carefully laying him flat on the floor. Then he focused the majority of his attention on the left arm, which was bleeding the heaviest, resting the right arm, wrapped tightly in a towel, on his chest. Rory pressed the towel firmly against his cuts on the left arm, as well as on the brachial artery, and raised it above his hearts to slow blood flow. He'd have to remain like that until Amy came with the med kit. Leaving Rory with nothing to occupy his mind on except everything around him.

Blood pooled around them on the floor, crawling up the knees of Rory's trousers. The Doctor's were nearly completely soaked by his own blood. Droplets of red already began to soak through the fibers of the towels.

In complete contradiction to his condition, The Doctor had a peaceful expression draped over his ashen face. Poor Amy would likely believe he had tried to kill himself, but it appeared to Rory that The Doctor had no intensions of ending his life. He simply cut too deep by mistake, it happens sometimes, and was so distracted by the relief it gave him, he didn't do anything about it before he passed out. Seemed likely.

Still, accident or not, he could have died because of this habit, or addiction, or means of coping--Or whatever self-harm was to The Doctor. Rory hadn't determined what that was yet-- With his shirt off, Rory could see others scars on The Doctor's body. Two ladders climbed up either of his sides, but it was the scars that gathered near his hips that captured his attention. The cuts made in the silence of his bedroom and fashioned into words, screamed of The Doctor's inner pain:

WORTHLESS

FAILURE

LIAR

WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?

MURDERER

Rory sucked in his breath sharply when he saw them, and turned his eyes up, blinking away tears. So, that's what it was to The Doctor... Punishment. Shaking his head he looked back down at The Doctor's face and whispered. "You treat your worst enemies with more respect than you do yourself."

/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\

Amy flicked on the light in The Doctor's room when she returned, med pack in hand. She ran as fast as she could, and made it back fairly quickly all things considered. Though, she wished there was no urgency to rush so she could better prepare herself for the moment she would have to step into that bathroom. She wasn't ready. But that changed nothing. The Doctor needed her, and she wasn't going to let him down. 

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Amy ran straight into the bathroom without further hesitation, holding the medical kit out for Rory to take. She kept her eyes locked straight ahead, but she could still see the bright red blood spread across the flood in her peripheral vision. She could still see the pale, lifeless body of The Doctor stretched out in it. She never realized just how much the sight of blood made her queazy until now.

"Amy..." Rory started quietly and Amy's heart rate picked up speed, having already anticipated the question. "I know this is hard for you, but I can't do it alone."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"I'll walk you through it. You won't have to do anything difficult. I promise."

"What if he doesn't make it? What if I do something wrong or he gets hurt even more and it's my fault!?" Amy asked around the lump in her throat, still not looking down. "What if this *is* my fault? If I hadn't said anything earlier about-"

"Amy, listen to me. This has nothing to do with you. Do you hear me? Nothing." Rory stated firmly. "He chose to do this himself, it was not your fault. Do you understand?"

Amy nodded, still uncertain of wether or not she believed it.

"I know you're scared, Amy. I am too. But, sometimes the only things that are worth doing, are the the things that scare us the most. And that's not a bad thing. Not if you don't let it stop you from doing it anyway."

Amy's eyes lowered to meet Rory's. "But-"

"Amy, I need you," Rory insisted with pleading eyes. "Now's not the time to doubt yourself. It's the time to prove yourself."

Biting her lip, Amy nodded her head. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

"Either you hold his arm up and keep pressure right here," he nodded, indicating where he squeezed the pressure point. "Or you get the disinfectant and clean his arms."

"I'll hold his arm up."

"Thought you might say that."

...

The Doctor went from watching dark red gush from his arm, to staring straight up at the solid white ceiling. It felt like he'd only closed his eyes for a moment, but here he was on his bed, with a lamp light on beside him. It made him wonder for a moment if it had been a dream. Amy's questions, Rory's stares... cutting on his bathroom floor.

Feeling stiff, he sat up to stretched out his back and shoulders, then he froze, catching sight of his bandaged wrists... So it did happen. And he passed out. Realizations struck him of what must have happened after. Rory and Amy had found him, and now the problem was the fact that they would have questions. Always questions with them, and now he couldn't deny anything. He was caught. A Time Lord. The last Time Lord from the planet Galifray. He was over a thousand years old and saved Earth and humans as well as many other planets and races a countless number of times, and now he was caught by his best friends for cutting. Whatever dignity he had was practically nonexistent now.

What would he do now? He'd have to see them eventually. They'd want to talk to him about it. What would they say? What would he tell them? Would they treat him differently, or not think of him as a great hero anymore? It didn't seem too unlikely that he shrank to the size of an ant in their eyes... He certainly felt like an ant now. Small. Scared. Caught under a magnifying glass in the sun at the mercy of two children. 

Amy and Rory, knowing he did this... His stomach turned summersaults. He had to think of some way to fix this, but no plausible excuses for this came.

Before he was ready to face them, he caught sight of Amy and Rory in the corner of his eye, standing in his doorway.

With a sigh, The Doctor put his head in his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. He didn't have enough time to think alone. He wasn't ready for this! He raised his head back up to the couple who made like weeping angels and now stood closer, still in the same stance. Arms crossed, faces stone, but now he could see the looks in their eyes that could only be described as incredibly sad. 

He looked at them, but was unable to meet their eyes for any longer, so he dropped his gaze to the floor. He sat in silence, fiddling with his bandage and biting his lower lip, hoping they would speak first, but hoping even more that this wasn't even real at all. It was different now that they were here. Before he felt nervous, more then anything. Now, guilt sat on his chest. Guilt that he was careless with his blade, leaving them to find him. And the shame he felt over his self harm caused him to hang his head low. Why did they have to find out? Soon the silence became unbearable, and he had to speak, saying the first thing that entered his mind.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled

A moment of deafening quiet followed...

"For what?" Rory spoke next.

The Doctor gave a half shrug, "... For you having to see me like that."

Rory shook his head, a look of disappointment and sadness covered his face. "Wrong answer."

"Oh?" Slight irritation rose in The Doctor. Who was Rory to say that answer was wrong? Why would Rory say an apology from him was wrong at all? "Then what do you want from me?"

"You owe yourself an apology, not us," Rory said in a gentler tone then he had used before. "You're the one who you're hurting when you cut."

The direct reference to his self-harm silenced The Doctor as he flinched slightly but noticeably. He felt exposed, and for once he didn't have all the answers or some clever response to get him out of this bind.

Rory stepped forward and knelt by the side of the bed, studying The Doctor's face carefully. "You don't deserve it, Doctor. You deserve to be loved and respected by others AND yourself. Don't you see that?"

"How did you guys even get in here? The door was locked."

"Don't try to change the subject. You almost died because of this. It's unfair what you're doing to yourself. It's unfair to you."

The Doctor's eyes locked on the wall behind his companions, so he could speak without looking directly at them. "You're wrong. I don't deserve the love or respect of others. And if you knew me like I know myself, you wouldn't say I did. You wouldn't even be here."

"What makes you think that?"

"... How did you even know where to find my room?"

"Doctor," Rory said sternly, bringing him back to the original conversation. "Why do you believe that?"

The Doctor tugged at his hair. "Rory, the people I could have saved--the things I've done-"

"So what?" Rory interrupted. "You think you don't deserve forgiveness? You'd forgive a Cyberman if you felt he was truly sorry. Why can't you forgive yourself after all you've done to try to make up for it?"

"I suppose I just... expect more from myself. I should be better then *this*," He said gesturing to all of him.

"Doctor, everyone does things they with they could take back, or wishes they could do more. But you can't do everything. You can't expect perfection of yourself." Then Rory was thoughtful for a moment. "You need to stop blaming yourself for the things you can't control."

"I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey. I'm over a thousand years old. I have a TARDIS, there shouldn't be things I can't control," The Doctor retaliated in a snappy tone. "But you're only human. You could never understand. Time Lords are so much stronger, faster, and smarter. I should be able to accomplish so much more then I do!"

"But you can't, Doctor. You try your hardest, but you still can't. Isn't doing the best you can enough?"

"I wish it was, but no." The Doctor replied glumly.

Rory sighed and rubbed his face. It was so frustrating. He didn't know how to deal with this, and he felt like he should. He should have the answer. The cure. He should know exactly what to say that would make The Doctor realize that he deserved to be treated better by himself. But he was at a loss for words. The problem with self-injury was there were more things to say that would make things worse than actually help, and everyone was always a little different. He waited a long while, thinking over everything that had been said.

"There are better ways to cope with guilt," Rory finally said distantly. "You don't need to punish yourself, and you don't need to hurt yourself when you're already hurting on the inside. I can help you."

The Doctor scoffed at him. "I don't need your help and I don't want it. I'm happy the way I am." And he meant it. He didn't know how he would manage if he couldn't cut.

Rory stole a brief glance in Amy's direction to see how she was holding up, but a quick glance around the room revealed she was gone.

Seeing he was looking for her, The Doctor said, "She took off just moment ago. When you went all quiet."

"You stay in bed and get some rest," Rory said standing up. "I'll go talk to Amy. She just doesn't understand this."

"And you do?" The Doctor asked curiously.

But Rory left without an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on Amy in the next chapter for those who are wondering what's going on with her.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the next chapter should be up soon.
> 
> I had to write this because I noticed there aren't many Doctor Who self-harm fan fictions. Not that it's a bad thing. I just feel like reading them when I'm down in the dumps. So if you feel like writing one, let me know. I'ld read it.


End file.
